


Band Practice

by corsairbot3000



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Napstablook, College AU, Mettaton wears a prosthetic arm but only when he feels like it, Multi, Trans Characters, Trans man Mettaton, University AU, [throws confetti and leaves the tags], band au, cos who needs arms with legs like those am i right?, kind of - Sans Papyrus and Blooky play cover songs in a garage, nonbinary Papyrus, nonbinary characters - Freeform, three couples get together happily for three times the warm fuzzies!!!, trans woman Undyne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corsairbot3000/pseuds/corsairbot3000
Summary: If Sans didn't value Papyrus' happiness more than his own sanity - and having Napstablook in the band has really perked him up lately - he might have said something about Napstablook's cousin Mettaton tagging along to every band practice. Because, between studying, rehearsals, and constant exhaustion, he really doesn't have the energy not to fall for the guy.Meanwhile: Mettaton tries very hard to seduce a boy who's already head over heels about him; Papyrus and Napstablook discover cute pet names for your nonbinary partner (and whether it's actually cool to kiss in a parked car); Alphys and Undyne give their best friends romantic advice while stubbornly refusing to acknowledge their feelings for each other; there is a Karaoke Party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No Undyne or Alphys in this chapter, which sucks because I love them (and writing Undyne & Papyrus banter for this has been so much fun).
> 
> I've got this fic all planned out but I don't know how quickly I can write it. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

Sans didn't have to get out of bed to know his day was going to be rough.

Firstly, after twelve hours of sleep he still felt exhausted, and his joints were aching something awful now too. He stretched experimentally; the dull pain of his shoulders popping said this wasn't the worst it could be, but it was still pretty crap. At this point Sans usually utilised the very effective coping technique of not moving for hours, but – second observation - he had overslept and was late for band practice. At least, if the voices carrying up the stairs were any indication, he had; it sounded like Papyrus and Napstablook were waiting on him to get downstairs. Letting down Papyrus was never quite an option, so he scrubbed a sleeve over his face, got slowly to his feet, and pulled the biggest, most comfortable hoodie he could find over yesterday's clothes. As he stepped out onto the landing the indistinct voices on the ground floor came into sharp focus.

“You're sure you don’t mind me tagging along again, darling? I just do love to see Blooky playing."

That would be Mettaton: third and final nail in the proverbial coffin of Sans' morning.

Sans made his way down the staircase, bracing himself for the extra visitor as he heard Payrus profusely rebuffing Mettaton’s concern, not that such denial was necessary. Mettaton had first visited and made himself welcome in their house months ago, shortly after Napstablook had joined their band (if Sans and Papyrus could have truly called it a band back then). Sans didn't have the energy to complain - after all, he got on pretty well with Napstablook. Sure, they were chronically shy and quiet, but they were talented on the keyboard, not to mention working the drum machine, the amps, the mics.... Having someone who actually understood sound equipment was pretty neat now they had actual gigs coming up. But Mettaton, with his withering looks and his snarky banter and his  _legs--_

“Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty,” said Mettaton drily.

"Yup." Sans' response rolled off his tongue even as his shoulders tensed. "Guess I got bored of waiting for a handsome prince to wake me up."

Mettaton sighed. "That's a shame. I'd just summoned the courage to come rescue you, too." He smirked, and it made Sans' chest feel like a helium balloon about to pop.

Mettaton was really just the worst.

Sans’ reply was lost when Papyrus and Napstablook came back into the room from the kitchen, Papyrus carrying two precariously full glasses of juice while Napstablook sipped at a water. “Sans,” Papyrus said - voice clear and powerful as always - as he came over to the foot of the staircase. “You're finally up! And you look terrible!”

Sans winced inwardly. The soft weight of his worn-in hoodie suddenly felt grubby rather than soothing; he rolled his tensed shoulders and laughed it off. "And after I put all this effort into my outfit."

Mettaton snorted a giggle next to Sans. Sans shot a glance at him, and felt his own grin widen.

Papyrus huffed at them both before passing Mettaton his glass, but he looked amused as he returned his gaze to Sans. "I'll make you a coffee, then perhaps you can stay awake through practice?"

"Thanks, bro." Sans started over to the door connecting the downstairs to the garage, throwing a grin over his shoulder at his retreating brother. "Can I get a side of Advil with that?"

Papyrus muttered something about eating first, but still called out an affirmative from the kitchen as Sans unlocked the door.

"Are you...okay?" Napstablook asked quietly. "You don't have to rehearse if..."

Sans smiled, as reassuringly as he could with his sort of face*. It wasn't often Napstablook spoke up about anything, so they must've been worried.

"I'm fine, pal. Just feelin' a little achey."

"Let me guess," Mettaton said, already smiling at his own joke. "Wild party last night?"

Sans barked a laugh at that one. If passing out in your clothes at 9PM with your textbooks still spread across your bed counted as a party... "Sure, something like that."

He opened the door and let Napstablook and Mettaton into the garage. The air in there was cool and still, and the faint soundtrack of household noises and passing cars faded into nothing in the soundproofed room. Sans and Napstablook set about pulling tarps off their equipment and instruments.

Mettaton hovered in the doorway. "It's freezing! You should really get a heater for in here, darling, or we'll all catch a cold."

Sans shrugged in response, trying to focus on unpacking his guitar. "Relax about it, Mettaton. CHILL out."

"Har-de-har." Mettaton shot him a look. "Of course it doesn't bother you. You're dressed for the Arctic in that hoodie."

It was true that Sans was better dressed for the November weather. Mettaton had opted for just a loose, faded band tshirt under his black denim jacket. The jacket didn't even have the decency to have full sleeves; as Mettaton tugged the front of the jacket closed around him, Sans noticed the few exposed inches of skin above Mettaton's left wrist, and the fluorescent garage light reflecting off his metal right arm. Sans had wished several times that he could get a better look at that prosthetic - he wasn't sure if it was state-of-the-art or a weird piece of junk, but the robotics minor in him found the way it moved fascinating. He looked back up again only to have Mettaton meet his gaze before pointedly looking away.

"Aw, come on," Sans said. "Don't give me the COLD shoulder."

Mettaton turned his head back in Sans' direction. "Maybe you could help me WARM UP a little," he replied with a mischievous smile, and he raked his eyes down Sans briefly before the smirk spread.

"You're not getting this hoodie off'a me without a fight, pal."

Sans assumed it was the hoodie Mettaton was making eyes at, and Mettaton, at the very least, let him believe it. He gasped, hand over his heart in mock horror. "How COLD-hearted of you! And here I thought you were all bark and no FROSTbite."

Sans laughed, and couldn't stop himself grinning even as he replied, "You're gonna have to try harder than that to win me over, hope you know."

"But I _can_ win you over."

Mettaton's dark eyes were practically sparkling, black-painted lips curling upwards like smoke, and then, just as quickly, it was gone. The movement was so sudden that it took Sans a moment to realise it was because Napstablook was talking.

"You can wear my jacket," they started softly. "I mean, only if you want... I don't mind." They seemed to be using the drum machine they'd just been setting up to shield themself.

Mettaton looked over at Sans from the corner of his eye, but then his face melted into a fond look. "Thank you. I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Sans watched as Napstablook shed their grey zip-up and Mettaton happily wrapped himself in it.

"What happened to 'we'll all catch a cold', huh?"

Mettaton waved Sans' words away. "Oh, Blooky will be fine. They're really quite hardy. Aren't you?"

Napstablook hummed absently in response, attention firmly on the drum machine. Mettaton was satisfied with that, if his smug smile was anything to judge by; Sans let it slide, fingers occupied with the strings of his guitar, even as his thoughts and eyes drifted...elsewhere. Mettaton was talking to Napstablook - or, perhaps, more at them, though about what Sans had lost sense of. Right then, through Sans' unfocused eyes, the man in front of him was almost abstract, an accumulation of details punctuated by the vibrations of his amp. Gunmetal ear piercings, a choppy mop of black hair, an aquiline nose. An energy, like the roar of a crowd buzzing through every movement.

A mouth, suddenly still.

A glance.

Sans looked away and kept plucking the guitar strings. Yeah, this morning was going to be rough.

**Author's Note:**

> * Sans' resting face was more amused than bitchy, not helped at all by his reputation as a bit of a comedian. He would be first to admit that smiling so much tended to make people wary of him as often as it enamoured them, but hey, what can you do?


End file.
